Ryan’s knees buckled as he emerged from the rubble, the once-familiar streets of Europolis now twisted beyond recognition. What had once been a skyline of sleek, towering buildings was now a jagged outline of broken spires and collapsed structures. The roads were strewn with debris—vehicles upturned, shattered glass glittering in the weak sunlight, and jagged pieces of steel poking out like bones from the ground.

A choking smell of dust and smoke lingered in the air, making it difficult to breathe. Every step Ryan took felt heavy, not just from the weight of the destruction around him, but from the deep, gnawing fear of what he might find—or fail to find.

His wrist console buzzed faintly as he tried to scan for survivors or broadcast a distress signal. It was useless. Communications were down across the city, the network crushed by the storm's sheer power. It wasn’t just any storm—it was like the heavens had collapsed. Whatever force had spared him from the storm had not been as kind to the rest of the city.

He turned slowly, taking in the chaos. Towering buildings were now hollow shells, windows shattered, their innards exposed to the elements. Some structures had toppled entirely, reduced to little more than piles of rubble. Streets he had walked a thousand times were buried, and familiar landmarks were gone—swallowed by the force of the storm.

Ryan’s stomach clenched as he thought of his girlfriend, Alyssa. She had been at work in the city center when the storm hit. He had no way of knowing if she was safe—or even if she had survived. The thought twisted his gut like a knife, but he couldn’t afford to break down now. He had to find out what had happened. There had to be others, survivors.

With determined steps, he made his way deeper into the heart of the city, pushing through the debris, calling out occasionally but receiving only silence in return. The usual hum of civilization was gone. No chatter of people, no distant thrum of transport systems, just the occasional crackle of a dying fire or the distant groan of a collapsing structure.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, he came upon a small group of people huddled together near what was once a market square. Their clothes were torn, and their faces were ashen, their eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and horror.

“What happened here?” Ryan asked, his voice hoarse from the dust in the air and his growing sense of dread.

One of the men, an older survivor with blood smeared across his temple, shook his head slowly. “The storm… it wasn’t just wind or rain. It… it tore through the city like a demon.” His voice wavered. “People were pulled into the air, buildings collapsed like they were nothing. We tried to get to the shelters, but there wasn’t time. It came too fast, too… unnatural.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Another survivor, a woman cradling a small child, spoke next, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how many of us are left. Most are gone. People just disappeared.” She looked up at Ryan, her eyes hollow. “Seventy percent of the city… it’s gone. Buildings destroyed, people missing. I don’t know what’s left.”

Ryan’s heart sank. Seventy percent. The words echoed in his head, each syllable heavy with the weight of unimaginable loss. This city, which had been home to over a hundred million people, was now reduced to ruins. And of those hundred million, only a fraction had survived.

“Alyssa,” he breathed out, his voice barely audible. He had to find her.

“Where are the survivors gathering?” he asked, desperate for any information that could lead him to her or to any organized response.

“There’s a makeshift shelter near the old central tower,” the older man said, pointing toward the distance, where the remnants of the city center still smoldered. “It’s not much, but some people are regrouping there.”

Ryan nodded and set off immediately, not wasting another second. The journey through the crumbling city was slow. His mind raced as he replayed every memory of Alyssa, desperately hoping she had made it to safety. He stumbled over broken pieces of the once-gleaming roads, his thoughts clouded with uncertainty. The further he walked, the worse the destruction became. Buildings had been sliced open like they were toys, their interiors now exposed to the elements. Fallen transport drones lay scattered like broken insects.

As he approached the central tower, or what was left of it, the scene became even more harrowing. Hundreds of people were gathered in the wreckage, some helping others, but most just standing in shocked silence, staring at the ruins around them. Makeshift medical stations had been set up with limited supplies, and injured survivors lay on the ground, their faces pale and expressionless.

A man in military gear, likely a monarch-appointed guard, stood near a crude command post, directing what little aid they could provide. Ryan hurried to him, hoping for news.

“Any word on how bad it is?” Ryan asked, bracing himself for the answer.

The guard looked at him, his face grim. “Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. We estimate about a million survivors in the city, out of the hundred million that lived here. The storm hit almost every district. We don’t know what caused it, but… it wasn’t natural.”

Ryan stood still for a moment, absorbing the information. Only a million left. His mind raced as he tried to process the enormity of the disaster. His thoughts drifted back to Alyssa, to whether she was part of the million or among the missing.

“We’ve sent out search parties,” the guard continued, “but it’s hard to get any real sense of who’s alive or dead. The city’s too damaged. And there’s no communication with the rest of the world yet.”

Ryan nodded numbly, staring out over the broken city. This wasn’t just a storm. This was something far worse, something beyond their understanding. He could feel it in his bones, in the way the storm had spared him. He hadn’t seen anything like this in all his years working with the energy grids, but the storm hadn’t felt like nature rebelling—it had felt like something deeper, something sentient.

“I need to find my girlfriend,” Ryan said finally, as much to himself as to the guard. “Alyssa. She was working in the city center.”

The guard gave him a sympathetic look. “Head over to the survivor’s list. It’s all we’ve got for now. I hope she’s there.”

With his heart in his throat, Ryan walked toward the crowd, desperately searching for Alyssa’s name, praying that she, too, had been spared.